Let me tell you about my own little life with regard to running. After some years of mountain biking, which slowly petered out as the social circle that held it together slowly lost its enthusiasm, I turned to running and, as have so many others, did couch to 5k (C25K) as a way to get into it.
I loved it, I enjoyed what was for me a mainly solo activity (I am a fully fledged member of the introverts club) but with a social element when I wanted it, and I loved the idea that it’s a sporting activity solely about what you can produce rather than having a slightly better or lighter bike, with slightly bigger wheels.
I graduated C25k with my first parkrun which got me in at about 32 mins and aspired to get that down to 25. A time trial last week gave me 25 mins and 31 seconds so I am heading the right way. And then we got a dog!
We have, as a family, discussed aligning ourselves to the canine path for some years. I grew up with boxer dogs in the household and have nothing but fond memories or all of it. The playing with, the using as pillows on a cold night when you get out of the bath, the absolute love you get from them with nothing demanded in return. And so when lock down came, and working from home became a semi permanent state for the foreseeable future, it seemed an opportune movement to take the plunge. Between my wife and I we had raised two very healthy and sensible children, we researched and read, we bought gear and prepped. And then we got a dog!
On the scales of success, running was for me a very successful hobby. Under most people’s measurement systems for hobbies it would have scored pretty well. I enjoyed it – check. Didn’t interfere with family life too much – check. Am progressing over time – check. I got lots from it both in terms of mental health and fitness – check. A level of socialness that as an introvert I can control – check. And then we got a dog!
After my first parkrun in 2018 I have since done 3 half marathons which I love. I do think at some stage I will do a marathon but the training overhead has not worked for me yet, it just hasn’t happened but I thought that in time it would. My times are respectable given my age and I do feel that through following an online plan I am getting better; PB’s still come, my ‘technical’ aspects are getting better. Hell, I even own more than one pair of running shoes for different terrain. I prefer trial runs to road runs if I am in the mood for the outside and a bit of space (which I generally am), but I prefer the road if the plan says a repetition or threshold run. I planned my routes, I read running mags, I don’t think I obsess (my wife may disagree) and I do have passion for the subject (but that’s a plus surely, no one gets better at things for which they don’t have a passion, do they?), and I was running about 3 or 4 times a week. And then we got a dog!
We chose a labrador. We did research and wanted a large dog rather than a small one, and wanted an intelligent breed given that the training appealed to all of us. I also wanted a dog that I could run with. The idea of cani-cross appealed to me greatly and I researched when they could, how long, harness types, it sounded so wonderful. And then we got a dog!
The dog is great. In the world of dogs he would be a prince or at least a king. If you exclude all the stuff that is from what I understand just inherent in the ‘puppy’ aspect of him then he is wonderful in every way. He has added to our family in a way that we didn’t understand and is still changing both in himself, and in the dynamic that he adds to our family life.
The puppy stuff is the stuff that is the issue, and there is a lot of stuff. We have two children and without any fear of ever being proved wrong here, that was far easier than one puppy. We knew it would be a journey or sorts, but had no idea where that journey would take us. We also knew it would take time and that some ‘things’ were going to happen and some changes would be forced upon us but we were not prepared.
When we got our dog the world changed. Imagine a baby, but one that is born very mobile, very fast when motivated, with a full set of sharp teeth and the crushing power of an industrial machine press. The sleep deprivation was not as I remember from having children. Then it was simply to get them back to sleep, a nappy change, some comforting, a feed, all indoors and all largely without resistance other than some expressed vocally. With a dog there is the toilet of course, but that generally involves number two’s that need to be picked up, in the dark (with head torch), often at 3 in the morning and often with frost on the ground, whilst in your dressing gown. We coped, we learned and we adapted. We trained him and started to all head the right way.
Bear was around 6 months old when he started to limp.
We were slowly increasing the lengths of his walks, and I was planning the future for when those walks would turn into runs. After the longer walks he started to limp, and once or twice on just short walks, one of his front legs would give way and he’d stumble. He recovered quickly but it was enough of a concern to take him to the vet.
The first visit to the vets ended with a diagnosis of ‘he’s over done it’, a few days of rest, some anti-inflammatories and, if it comes back, we’ll look into it more. It came back. They looked into it more with x-rays, that turned into a referral to an orthopaedic specialist, the visit to the orthopaedic specialist turned into a diagnosis of elbow dysplasia.
Elbow dysplasia is more common in labs than we knew. Choose your source but it’s about 20% of labs that have a form of it. There are about 7 forms of it from what I know, and Bear has 5 of them so he is about 1 in 100. Genetically it seems that he was fucked from the start. His condition is severe, and getting worse. It’s life limiting and requires multiple surgeries to give him a fighting chance at the very least (which we have arranged) and are part way through enacting. The £26 a month on pet insurance is the best £26 per month I have ever spent. After the operations, the rest is just up to fate but essentially he will go lame through Osteoarthritis some time through his middle age and then we will have to make a decision – it’s as simple as that.
The osteoarthritis is the thing that will get him, but essentially he has no cartilage in his elbows, they are ridiculously tight joints, he has bone missing where he should have it, and bone growing where he shouldn’t. His range of movement in his elbows is a fraction of what it should be and if he moves too much, the joints that are tight get tighter. The socket of his ball and socket elbow joint is degrading, they provide the fragments.
It strikes me that scenarios like this for pets are far more sensibly approached than for humans. I am married with two kids – three of us passionately wanted a dog, the last one of us was convinced by our enthusiasm. We have had multiple family meetings to discuss what we do, how we manage the workload, how we manage to sleep and maintain our own lives and the one thing that we all agreed on, and that guides my thinking on so many things related to our dog and his life is really simple – ‘The best we can, for as long as we can.’
This thing is really on a scale, we could, and have tried to, limit Bears activity. He is a labrador. A gundog. Bred to smell, bred to run, bred to be very active. All this damages him so the choice is on a scale. On one axis is activity and by consequence, quality of life – with more activity roughly increasing quality of life. On the other is longevity. The more he does, the quicker he hurts, the shorter he lives.
‘The best we can, for as long as we can.’
In the short term there are surgical procedures to make this less worse. I word it that way as there is no cure. There is some treatment, and then it moves to care and management of his condition in the same way that we would for humans. CT scans followed the X-rays and they involved the first of a few general anaesthetics. The written report from the CT scan was horrible reading and very complicated. It mentioned numerous issues, most of which were labelled as severe. The scan was followed by a bilateral (both elbows) arthroscopy (hoover out bone fragments and have a better look in the elbow joints). The news from this confirmed the original thoughts of the orthopaedic specialist. Bear was fucked. ‘Was it our fault, did we do too much?’, ‘Was it the breeders fault?’, the answers to both of those was no. I remain unconvinced on the breeder question but what can you do in reality? I do harbour a deep anger about this bit but that will pass, I hope.
The arthroscopy removed about 15 bone fragments. These were thought to be the cause of the leg giving way and that hasn’t happened since which is good. It also confirmed Bear had next to no cartilage in either of his front elbows. One of them had none, the other had an amount that was actually fairly worthless. Both joints were crazily tight, most probably permanently inflamed.
At the same time as the arthroscopy, they performed what can only be called a conscious leg break (it’s actually called a roximal ulna osteotomies). The logic as I understand it is that the abnormal design of his elbow, means that the normal design of his leg does him no favours at all – in fact the opposite. When he walks the pressure and the shocks that travel to his elbow are not good. Idea here is to cut one of the bones in his leg, his leg then heals in a far more natural way for his malformed elbows. The slightly offsetting of his leg bones relieves pressure off the elbow, and allows the leg to flex to remove some of the shock, rather than have that shock beat his elbow like a club hammer.
The arthroscopy and the first leg break was in about October (they don’t break both legs at the same time – how nice of them!), the second leg break was just after Christmas. We had to have a break as the stress for us, and the total unfairness for him just seemed criminal. The recovery time from the first was horrendous, the second we knew what to expect. Seeing your dog in that much pain is horrendous, having nothing that you can do is horrible. Having to sedate your dog constantly into a vegetative state for around 8 weeks each time really makes you feel fairly shit. It’s been quite a journey for all of us, especially him.
I started writing this little tale on New year’s day 2021. I stopped at the last paragraph shortly after that and it’s now June 2022 – have just found it with a beer and a sunny early evening.
Bear is doing well if you’re asking. His operations healed nicely. He has hydrotherapy at least once a week and daily medication. He is almost 2 years old and still occasionally a nightmare. Most of the time he is not, and we wouldn’t be without him. He now has free reign of all the house, bar one room which is the safe space for the overly timid cat.
He is still a big chap (43 kilos), he still gets the zoomies, he still chases birds he has no chance of catching, and he still has a bark like a sonic boom. Behaviourally, he is almost there, I think he is almost out of the puppy stage and is ‘calming down’ by the week. He can sit in a pub long enough for me to have a pint, and we have an amazing family life, with an amazing dog.
We haven’t had a lay in since the day we got him and life is not the same, but by god it’s not bad. We have a family meeting each week to plan the week, who’s on early, who’s on late walk, who’s around and whose not. It works for us and it’s centred around Bear and his needs.
Occasionally he does do too much, and when he does we have to make him chill. A decent walk brings a decent sleep and we manage each day through mental stimulation, gentle but stimulating walks (beach is a favourite), a raw diet, and an ongoing medication routine.
I have got back to running. I don’t run as long or as often but I don’t mind, I also drink more beer which is a plus. When I go to park run and see people with their dogs, with their legs that bend where they should, I do swear like fuck in side my head but its purely out of jealousy and what Bear has been denied. I’ll never run with him, but I’d rather have him and walk, than not have him at all.
The prognosis remains a mystery. He has no long term prognosis and vets understandably, won’t commit to much in this space. We have varying family theories and views on this but mine is lameness at about year 4, maybe year 5. And that really hurts and makes it all feel quite shit. But he is an absolute star, he knows nothing about any of this other than the pain. He is treated like a king, spoiled like an only child, fussed as often as we can, and loved with all that we have.
The best we can for as long as we can – what else can you do?
He has to be a dog. That’s our conclusion. He has to run in the river, chase the birds, jump on the sofa, be a bit of a dick, enjoy himself, and let us laugh with him and love him. What else can you do?
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My last update to this page above, is showing as Jan 7th 2022. Today is December the 9th 2023. It’s the Strictly Come Dancing semi final (Uk reference) and I am watching under a level of duress that I can’t admit to outside of the anonymity of this page (so thank you for providing the cover). I am a few beers in on this Saturday night and when that happens, I tend to revisit this page and have a read, very rarely, I decide an update is due.
How’s Bear doing you say? Well thank you for asking. He is doing well all things considered. We last went to the orthopaedic specialist in July 2023. Bear had started to slow down, his movements were more laboured and he started to look a bit like an old man but in dog form, but he wasn’t yet even three. When you think of an old man, you actually think of our dog. Someone who struggles to get out of bed in the morning, someone for whom that first movement after a period of no movement is painful, someone for whom time just has to be a tad slower. Carrying out the same movements as the next generation just takes longer, it just does. And he isn’t yet three.
The run up to the ortho visit was very surreal. We had a few calls with our children (who have since moved out for either Uni or for work/love) and we very much warned them to expect the worst. Our view was that this was the start of the end and the visit to ortho man was simply to confirm that and hopefully, put some idea of timescales to our collective entropic journey. On arrival we were presented with some options around potential next steps. We were in the phase of palliative care and this was about pain management, making it as smooth as we could for him, and consequently us. The options were few and a fairly simple choice between…
1) A platelet infusion which essentially boils down to flooding (and I mean on a scale that only Noah would recognise) the worst of the two bad elbow joints with red blood cells. The chance of this making any difference was expressed to us as about 40%., And if it did, the difference was hugely variable, no guarantees in this business I am afraid.
2) Stem cells. I don’t know alot about stem cells but have always regarded them as a bit of a miracle thing. My limited understanding was that they were baby generic cells which can grow, and as they do they turn into any cells at all, but I have never understood how they know which ones are needed. For the record I know nothing of what I speak other than what life has let me pick up very generically while not paying any attention to this specific subject. The chances of stem cells making a difference was slightly higher, but far more complex a calculation (take a deep breath). The chance of stem cells helping a dog in Bear’s situation is around 70%. That on face value is better than choice 1. The messy bit of the formula is that you have to wait and see. It can take between 5 and 12 weeks for you to see any effect, and if you do see an effect, it can last for between 4 weeks and 6 months. So a higher chance of helping, but that help may not be visible for some time, and when it comes, it may bugger off faster than your family visiting at Christmas.
We opted for the stem cells, partly because we knew more of their miracle properties, which gave us a level of hope (which may well have been false hope, but I’ll take what I can get) that red blood cells didn’t. And partly just cause the initial number was higher and if that’s the case then why wouldn’t you.
It was a fairly quick visit for Bear, in and out in a day but the diagnosis was quite hard. We were lucky and got two formal titles – the first was ‘Stage 4 osteoarthritis’, the second, and the very much more formal title was ‘End stage arthritis’. Our orthopaedic doctor is great, he took a lot of time with us and answered all our questions bar the one my wife called the ‘Killer question’ which was simply ‘How long has he got?’
His answer simply was that we would look at him one day and we would know that we had got there, and that it was time for the conversation and the ultimately kindest of last steps.
That time has yet to come. We still feed raw as we think its best and bar the small matter of the front half of his skeleton, he is in amazing condition. He has seaweed supplements, he has hydrotherapy weekly and he has a painkiller injection monthly. We claim on our insurance for all of this and our premium is now £101 per month, but as that’s less than a third of what we claim back we are still quids in.
He is still happy, he walks twice a day, both on soft ground if we can, one up to 5km and one as long as we think he can cope with based on that day and the few days before. He still chases sticks, he still gets zoomies in the lounge and still flies around like a youthful dog with a youthful skeleton. Little does he know what the reality of his situation really is.
He has recently turned 3, which means in labrador terms he is about at maturity. We have seen that difference and are so angry that the work we have put in (aside from that driven by medical necessity and which is fucking huge), to get through the puppy stage and to get the dog that we wanted, will result in short change for both us and him. I read somewhere years ago, and it has stuck with me ever since, that the puppy stage is the test to see if you deserve the dog. I feel we have passed that test with all the flying fucking clours of the rainbow and we are left gutted, robbed, disappointed, and heart broken. A big part of that is for us, we feel robbed and we have every fucking right to feel that way, but a lot of that is for Bear. He won’t get greying hairs on his jawline, he won’t get the later years and whatever that would have meant for him. We can never get him another dog friend as he wont be able to keep up with him/her, and both us and he, have been short changed big time.
He still makes us laugh daily, he still makes us mad but far less often than he used to. The mature Bear is absolutely lovely and what we always wished a dog would be, and would do for us as a family is here, it just will give us less than we’d planned for, but that’s okay, we had quite a lot.
‘The best we can, for as long as we can.’ still guides us. I haven’t run for a few years now and although I may well will again one day it won’t be pre Bear shuffling on. I saved a week’s holiday from work this year for ‘Dog death’ week but thankfully that hasn’t come yet. I think it will in the next 12 months but my wife, who is far more romantic than me and is the wishful thinker in the family, thinks it will be further away. I hope that she is right and I am wrong, I really do.
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It’s now the 27th January 2024, and I am once again a few beers in. I have come back to this document to notice that the last update I did didn’t make the light of day. So if anyone does read this I apologise for my tardy production timeline. Bear is a bit older now, and a bit slower. I think this is the start of the end but who knows. Now, when we go to hydro and the opening question is as always “How’s he been?” our answers are slowly declining. They form around a consensus of “Slowing down”, “Bit sore”, “Had a tough week”, and I really hate getting used to saying that. We follow up with mitigation like “but it’s been really cold!”, “he is due his painkiller next week”, or something else to make sense of it. It’s really not nice.
Having said all the above, please don’t lose sight of the fact that he is a happy dog. He gets the best of everything and is spoilt rotten. He wants for nothing and all this would probably be the case if he had never come even close to having any bad elbows. He still likes to steal food, and sometimes he manages to get what he wants, including french bread from the worktop.
But what can you do? I am writing this in the study/spare room and he is asleep on the bed behind me. I’ll take that for as long as I can. What else can I do?
Final chapter (Spoiler alert)
It’s now the 13th April 2024 – It’s been a tough week and we don’t know the exact cause of his issues. Choice 1 was that something bear ate on a walk earlier this week caused a blockage, choice 2) is that either choice one, or just some random act of ‘lets give the dog that has suffered quite a bit, something more to suffer with’ gave him Pancreatitis. Pancreatitis is not pleasant at all, my limited understanding is that your pancreas makes the enzymes that go to your stomach to aid/do digestion/digestive stuff. If you have Pancreatitis then your pancreas gets inflamed, the enzymes just stay there instead of meeting at the allocated digestion site, and the enzyme start to digest the pancreas. Nice huh?
Three days ago he stopped eating, started vomiting, panting horribly, wandering in a dazed state without purpose or direction, and generally looking like he was very poorly. Three days and about three grand later (God bless pet insurance) and he had an op to see if there was a blockage and there wasn’t, has had a few days on morphine, gone through a lot of pain, and we have had very little sleep. We were considering now that the thing that was going to kill him, wasn’t going to kill him, and that he was going to be killed by something else. That would have been a turn up and the irony isn’t lost on me.
It’s now the 15th April. My wife and I have just taken our sweet little lifeless boy to the vet for the last time. He seemed to be recovering from the Pancreatitis, the vet even told us to get some electrolyte fluid to build his strength back up again and yet now he has gone. He spent the last few days in the garden, laying in what little sun there was. He loved to do this but he seemed to be recovering or resting, far more than he would usually be sunbathing. He still hasn’t eaten but was more alert and seemed to be on the mend.
The view of the vets on Saturday was that he was on the mend and that was a view that we shared. Yesterday was restful but very much in the spirit of preserving energy. Last night I found myself in the garden and Bear seemingly had disappeared, I found him some minutes later in the bushes, seemingly hiding away, tucked under some greenery. We didn’t think anything of this and bought him in at bedtime, gave him a kiss and went to bed.
This morning I found him where he slept. He looked so peaceful and at rest, in fact so much so that I went to give him a stroke and didn’t realise that he had gone. This triggered a few hours of chaos, and as above, we have just left him at the vets for his final time.
I am not sure this was anything to do with the Pancreatitis, but what do I know other than he was on the mend. At 4 months old we were told he had the osteoarthritis of a 13 year old dog so by now that inner dog is 16 and a half. He had severe elbow dysplasia and has been on God knows how many drugs for most of his life.
My theory for what it’s worth, is that he just got to the stage where he had had enough. I think there is something in the fact that we all have a limited supply of life source, energy, go go beans, call it what you will. And I think he was using his faster than the rest of us. This all happened very recently (hours) but I think I am at peace with it already. I wish it hadn’t happened of course, but the way he went, how he looked, the pain levels, all of that – they go up to a far higher scale and I am thankful for that.
We will always have our Bearsy, boozy, bollock boy. Google will remind us of him all day, on all our devices, at 45 second intervals, and our tears are starting to subside and we are starting to laugh at our memories of him.
Finding him in his sleep and at peace, was better than what I thought would happen, which was me having to carry a 42 kilo labrador out from the semi darkest reaches of the forest with him in an awful lot of pain. There are far worse ways to go, and I am glad he went quickly, apparently in his sleep, and with a peaceful look on his face.
The ‘hiding in a bush’ thing is curious. Google says that weak dogs, as they feel very vulnerable to predators do this as a form of self protection, they know they are low on defence factors and take action to minimise risk. We had a few hours of ‘could we have done more’ but I don’t think we could.
We promised ourselves, and him, some time ago that we would do ‘the best we can, for as long as we can’ and we did. I just wish so much that it had been longer. He was an absolute joy and it was a privilege to have been in that position.
Sleep well, my big lovely guy.
Bear Manzi 14th September 2020 – 15th April 2024
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Manziclan 